Passenger
by Adrian Tullberg
Summary: Crossover. The Doctor's giving a lift. Martha can't believe it ...
1. Chapter 1

The Passenger

By Adrian Tullberg

* * *

The Doctor was darting around the control console, making adjustments and calibrations that were _not_ completely random _at all_, thank you very much, the central column moving at a good rate of speed.

The man who'd helped him out in America had collapsed into the seats, still taking in the interior of the TARDIS. In his fifties at a rough guess. Not very tall, but filled out his clothing with the bulk of someone who worked out a fair bit.

The Doctor turned around to see Martha blinking away the addled state that just waking up brings about. Never agreed with him, one of the reasons he gave sleep a miss. "Ah, Martha! Rise and shine!"

Martha was starting to stare at the newcomer, who had recovered enough from his shock to raise a large hand and wave at her.

"Stopped off to get some milk, and what do you know, some alien creatures are there to invade Earth because that's the only place in the galaxy where you can get cheap Tofu. Powerful narcotic on their planet, makes heroin look like a warm glass of milk before bedtime..."

Martha was marching up to the Doctor, eyes still flicking at the newcomer.

The Doctor jabbed his head at the seated man "... and he was kind enough to give me a hand - well, actually a fist. Wham! Down he went! Never saw anything like that! Anyway, I offered him a lift home..."

Martha had drawn level with the Doctor, who placed his lips near her ear before she could talk. "It looks like the spatial limiter's on the blink - have to rematerialise somewhere else to recalibrate..."

"Doctor ... do you have any idea who that is?"

The Doctor looked around at the man with that big grin he reserved exclusively for those whose name he'd completely forgotten. "Robbie, was it?"

Martha leaned towards the Doctor's ear. "Rocky."

"Close enough."

"_Balboa_."

The Doctor turned, Martha rolling her eyes when his expression betrayed he hadn't a clue what she was talking about.

"Two-time world heavyweight boxing champion?" Martha's dad was a huge, and she meant _huge_ fan of boxing. In fact, it was the fact that Dad had coughed up for the pay-per-view of the Dixon/Balboa exhibition match on Mum's birthday that had drove the final nail into their marriage.

This new fact hadn't made a blip on the Doctor's radar.

Martha placed her hands on her hips - mentally bemoaning that the Doctor had made her act like her Mum - and stared the Doctor in the eye. "How long will it take to fix it?"

"Not too long, not too long..."

She'd heard more reassuring promises from the bloke who renovated Mum's kitchen six months over schedule. Martha flashed a hopefully reassuring smile at the historical figure they'd just kidnapped. "Well, get on with it ..."

While the Doctor was resuming his frenetic dance, Martha slid next to the still confused man, extending her hand. "Hi. Welcome aboard."

Still in a daze, he returned her shake. "Ah ... yeah, tell me, is this ... normal?"

"'fraid so."

The floor shuddered, sending her and Rocky crashing to the ground.

So far, she didn't expect to get her dad an autograph at this rate...


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you _sure_ this isn't part of the series?"

The Doctor looked at the two girls. They'd been caught up in the latest bit of chaos he'd stuck his nose in (some people looked for trouble; trouble was his personal stalker) and he'd bundled them into the TARDIS seconds before the building went _boom_. Common courtesy, to get people out of the way before the bomb _you_ set up went off.

"... ah ... pretty sure ..."

Then again, their reactions weren't normal - the usual course of events was either stunned amazement, desperate realignment of their personal concepts of the universe and their place within it, heady awe, increasing excitement - these two blondes were exhibiting mild disinterest at best, the shorter one concentrating more on the image in her compact mirror.

They weren't carrying fob watches, were they?

"Anyway ..." The Doctor started the warm-up sequence for dematerialisation "... I'll just get you home ..." A thought struck him. "Oh, I didn't get your names."

_That_ produced a reaction. "You don't know us?"

The Doctor peered at their features, trying to match them against historical personages of significance and importance (most he'd met purely for dinner party conversation) and drew a solid blank. "Sorry. No. Should I?"

"Well _that_ sucks."

He was just giving them a lift, that's all. He was _not_ desperate for company.

"Oh ... anyway ... I'm the Doctor. And you are...?"

"Nicole."

"Paris."


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor slammed down the final switch and looked over at the helpful American. "Well, we saved the world!"

"And they said I'd never do anything worthwhile."

"The way you distracted the Mycozin Queen? Incredible!"

The tourist tried to to look modest but failed miserably. "What can I say? It helps if you hooked up with her earlier in your hotel room and exfoliated her brains out."

The Doctor grinned, nodded but his enthusiasm ground to a halt. "... sorry?"

"Okay, we've established the whole 'alien' thing, don't wear it out."

The perplexed expression didn't leave the Doctor's face, so the American tried the direct approach. "Just to bridge the cultural divide; how much do you know about women?"

"Me? Women? Not quite sure. Oh! I got married, sort of. Does that count?"

"Sort of married? Is that like being a little bit pregnant?" That brought about a suitibly blank look on the Doctor's face, so the American switched back to direct queries. "Was there paperwork? Witnesses? A guy in an Elvis costume?"

"You could say there was a ceremony performed that was rarely practiced only by an extinct race without a presiding official in a bubble reality that arguably never existed."

"That was either a lawyer's worst nightmare or dream come true." The American leaned back on the console while the Doctor continued his operations. "Well, you don't need to know anything about women to get married. In fact, there's probably some kind of ratio proving the less you know about women, you're more likely to get hitched."

"Intresting theory."

"Trust me. I'm not ashamed to say I've had a few near misses - the last one a lot closer than the rest - but I'm still free as a bird. So here's the deal. You show me the mysteries of the universe, I'll show you the mysteries of women."

"Well, I've been meaning to work that one out for a while ..."

"Haven't we all?"

"Okay! First; due to events relating to the whole bubble reality event, I'm trying to keep a low profile."

"Same here."

"Shouldn't be too much of a problem because they think I'm dead, but best not to take chances."

"Same here."

The Doctor grinned. It seemed this one already had a clear grasp of the obvious and would not get into trouble. He reached out to his newest passenger. "I'm the Doctor."

The American took his hand and formally shook it. "Charlie Harper."


	4. Chapter 4

Danielle ran for her life down the alleyway, away from that ... thing.

Rounding the corner, she nearly collided with a young man with a bow tie and was all elbows, and a taller bloke with a thick moustache, and sporting the type of grin her mother warned her about.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor ..."

"Jagshemash!"

"... and this is Borat."

"We look for Jew!"

The Doctor turned to his companion, clearly on his last nerve. "For the last time, it is _an alien_! Also an Anglican, but alien!"

As the two began arguing in several different languages, Danielle wondered if she'd been running in the wrong direction.


	5. Chapter 5

There was always someone to beware of, mused Clara, as she heard the grinding sounds of a Police Box violating the known laws of physics and nearly crushing the azaleas. She pocketed the matches that she was just about to use to light up that scented candle with, and exited the back door.

First there was this bizarre individual that had injected himself into her life; someone too dorky to be classified as a stalker. Then there were Artie and Angie, who had been preoccupied with a new game App so that they weren't attempting to blackmail their way into the TARDIS.

The door swung inwards just as she was about to push it open, and the Doctor's grinning face emerged like a jack-in-the-box.

"Clara! How are you? You're looking absolutely-"

Definitely suspicious behaviour. "What have you done?"

"Wha … I … what are you talking about?"

"You're greeting me in a manner that seems suspiciously like you're trying to butter me up while blocking my view of inside."

"… there might be an element of that …"

"Turned the snogbox into a dungeon, then?"

God, she loved that look on his face. Probably mirrored her own whenever Angie asked her if she'd done whatever some politician or reality show 'star' had been caught/filmed doing.

When the indignation and shock finally wore off his face, the Doctor moved aside to let her in, and see-

Bloody hell. That person – girl – sitting on the floor, boot-clad feet dangling over the edge. In university, this was either started off as a nice middle class girl like Clara who then wanted to piss off their Conservative Party Member Daddy, or the genuine article with the piercings who hung out at the pub and terrified the pretenders mid-term. Like this specimen.

With the fixed smile that one attempts to prevent lip reading, Clara leaned backwards towards the Doctor. "Who's that?"

"Someone I met, she's coming with us! I'm sure you've … got something in common .You two, be friends! Best mates! Compadres!"

"Yes! Sure! We can talk about boys and compare ASBOs!"

A silent but effective shove sent Clara towards the interloper.

Clara's sudden stop finally made the new person look up. Clara attempted to look friendly as she felt the TARDIS begin it's dematerialisation. Damn it, she was not some lonely pet that needed a similar animal when the owner went to work. It was just fine with just her and the Doctor.

However, she was not going to be singled out as the bitch. Clara lowered herself down to a similar sitting position next to this new person – yes, she could see now that under her clothes that this new passenger was quite inked up.

"Hi."

There was an expression that the kids adopted when they did something extraordinarily unwillingly, like tidy their rooms or turn off the TV in the middle of the night. This person looked at Clara with a near mirror image expression when she returned her greetings with a slight nod.

Yep, destined to be best mates. Without a doubt.

"So … you're from Earth then. Not want to assume, with the Doctor and everything."

The woman looked at Clara again. "Yes. Earth."

And she thought Angie gave her a hard time those first few weeks.

"And how did you get involved with the Doctor then? Did he show up at your front door or did he go through a temp agency?"

A brief flicker of confusion revealed itself in her pale face amid the black makeup, before one of introspection asserted itself. "I won."

"Okay, you want to elaborate on that?"

The newcomer looked Clara dead on for the first time, with a somewhat unnerving expression. "I finally won. I was finally free. And I had no idea what to do next."

Now that she had a complete sentence, Clara thought she could detect an accent, but she couldn't place where. And something about her face rung a bell. Had she been on TV?

The woman continued. "I was bored. I wandered around for a while. And then I ended up helping a man in a bow tie fighting plastic men."

"So you're here because you've got nothing better to do?"

The woman was searching her pockets for something. "Do you?"

"I think it's more or a case of him-" Clara noticed her searching her pockets wasn't ceasing. "-something wrong?"

The newcomer produced a packet of cigarettes from her leather jacket. "He's taken my lighter. Again."

Clara produced her packet of matches.

The woman seemed mystified as she lit up."… thanks."

"Clara!" A disapproving tone from the console. "Are you enabling?"

"Bonding!"

"Well, get over here, we're nearly there!"

Clara turned back to the girl, who now had a wreath of smoke around her. "C'mon. If you've noticed, he gets annoyed if he doesn't show off. Covers up the fact he doesn't know where he's landed half the time."

As they levered themselves up, the woman tried to smile at Clara. She obviously hadn't much practice. "Clara Oswald, I hope we can get along."

"Okay. I-"

Clara stopped. After all, when someone places their hand on your arse, that's quite the conversation stopper.

"And maybe we can compare ASBOs."

Looks like she was going to beware this new passenger for entirely different reasons.

"C'mon!"

"In a sec!" Clara turned towards the girl who's expression was now evaluating. "Look, I don't even know-"

That disconcerting smile again. "It's Lisbeth. Salander."


End file.
